"Nay, I know nothing save what you have told me; and from that I have
been hoping there was no other."

"But if I say there may be?"

My heart went sick at that. True, I had thought to give her generously
to Dick, whose right was paramount; but to another--

"Margery, come hither where I may see you." And when she stood before me
like a bidden child: "Tell me, little comrade, who is that other?"

But now her mood was changed again, and from standing sweet and pensive
she fell a-laughing.

"What impudence!" she cried. "_Ma foi_! You should borrow Père
Matthieu's cassock and breviary; then, mayhap, I might confess to you.
But not before."

But still I pressed her.

"Tell me, Margery."

She tossed her head and would not look at me. "Dick Jennifer is but a
boy; suppose this other were a man full-grown."

"Yes?"

"And a soldier."

The sickness in my heart became a fire.